A year ago today, Warren came to my room and said, "So, are you ready?"
A year ago today, Warren picked up the heavy soft bag, I picked up the very light soft bag, and we walked out the door.
A year ago today, we slowly walked down the hall and got on the elevator.
A year ago today, I slid into the front seat of the car, Warren started the engine, and we looked at each other. "Ready?"
A year ago today, Warren drove slowly home, purposely taking the slower route up Franklin Street. "I thought you'd want to see the trees," Warren said. They were aflame—the golds, the reds—all brilliant. I was in tears, saying over and over as the leaves drifted down, "Oh, I didn't miss fall after all!"
A year ago today, I slowly walked back into our home for the first time in nine weeks. I was weak and frail and still had months of recovery ahead of me, but I was home.
I am penning out these words Friday night to type out on Saturday. I will set this post to publish on Sunday the 27th, which is the one-year anniversary of my homecoming from the medical messes of 2023. By the time this post publishes, we will be well on our way to Rochester and Mayo Clinic. The sun will be rising as we head west on US 30 across Indiana. That route is lined with deciduous trees, and they should be in their October glory, just like they were a year ago today when Warren drove up Franklin to our home.
A year ago today, I came home. Today, I am here to celebrate hitting that one-year mark, and for that I am grateful.
3 comments:
Sending hugs and hopes your return visit means continued quality care and more beautiful trees to see for years and years.
I'm grateful you're here, friend.
Sam, I am always in great hands at Mayo and this trip was no exception. And yes, the trees were beautiful!
Laurie, thank you, my friend.
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